end. Book One-A Dream's Dead end.
by Psychohistorian
Summary: I'm back from vacationa with a new chapt-errr "scene" (See, I do read reviews)
1. The Trouble With Paradise

_Final Fantasy 7: end._

_Book One: A Dream's Dead End._

_They were the heroes.  They saved their world.  But sometimes our actions have Ramifications we can't even imagine._

Disclaimer (or the shameless plug to try and same my butt): I hereby state that I do not own the Final Fantasy franchise, anything remotely related to it, or even enough money to be worth suing.  This story is for the purely hedonistic gratification of it's audience and is in no way meant to hinder sales of the game "Final Fantasy VII."  On the contrary this author endorses the game.  If you read this story and enjoy it, please buy the game.  If your read this story and don't enjoy it, please by the game.  For that matter, buy the strategy guide.  In fact, all the Final fantasy 7 products are very much worth any ridiculously high price you may see them at.  All the other Final Fantasy products are just as worthy, so don't limit yourself to 7.  Just to be sure you don't miss anything, I suggest you go out and hunt for any product at all in any store that has two "f"s somewhere on it and purchase all said store has.  Yeah…right…..

Scene 1: The Trouble With Paradise.

It was a beautiful day, the kind people used to wish for.  The smooth shade draped over the ground like a thin layer of silk, following its way up to the treetops, split only by the sun.  A single drop of early morning dew rolled lazily down the center of a healthy green leaf, collecting on the tip before breaking free, peacefully, silently.

It dropped swiftly towards the rich brown soil, but somehow did not seem hasty as it fell through cracks in seas of green leaves and past puddles of red, blue, and yellow flowers (flowers were always a sign of Her presence).  It landed on a thin vine, snaking it's way smoothly along the long green path, leaving tiny traces of itself behind.  The drop weaved in and out of the vine's rusty red thorns in a manner that would put a professional skier (back when they had such things) to shame.  Ever moving towards it's goal.  Ever taking it's time.  Ever serene.

As the vine wound the droplet found it's way off the narrow edge and struggled to keep on it's way, slowly loosing it's grip and falling, differently than before, plummeting down to a leaf that would bend to it for only a moment, springing back up and launching it up into the air to the middle of a beautiful flower's bent petal.  There it stood, slothfully stuck in indecision.  Not moving towards the sweet smelling center of the flower, but not returning to it's journey either.

Finally, when a small eternity (then again, all of them are) had passed, a surprise came.  Another droplet fell into it, merging the two.  Greater than it was before and reminded of it's goal, it re-embarked on it's quest, rolling off the petal, falling to the earth and it's destiny.

As the new drop was gleefully mere feet from the ground, a stunning ray of light dove through the trees.  The ray piercing the drop, creating a spectacular display of tiny sparkling orbs in its wake as it buried itself into the ground with…a light thud?

A shadowy figure barely had time to look to their feet to see the bullet hole in the dirt before two more bore their way through them.  Two comrades emerged from the earth beside his fallen form, one quickly constructing a large shield for them both from seemingly nowhere, the other's arm extending grossly and at frightening speed at their red-robed assailant's head.

The man darted at the two, narrowly dodging the arm and following it down at speeds that rivaled his bullets, looking like a blood red streak of lightning.  His face never changed, his eyes fixed on those of his opponent. He brought his legs in front of him at the last second, actually kicking his attacker's head from their body, giving him the force to push off just in time to dodge the now thorn covered shield being swung at him.  He back flipped to his feet with inhuman grace.  He arched his back enough to dodge the shield as it flew though where his head had been a moment before, but granted his adversary enough time to advance on him.  He quickly tried to asses the situation but knew he was trapped as the fist witch was rapidly becoming a blade flew at him.  He just hoped that Barrett's car had finally started.

A barrage of shots echoed in the air and the man mused how little his attacker's strike hurt with its hand blown to pieces.  It's chest soon followed as it weekly fell to the ground.

"You left me!"  Said the short stocky man in a half comedic, half furious tone only he could pull off.

"You were slowing me down."  Replied the crimson clad man matter-of-factly, rising to his feet.

"I what!?!"  Shouted the short man, raising and charging the gattaling gun implanted in his arm to replace a hand lost in battle.  "I just saved your life Valentine!  Show some resp-"

He was cut of by a giant green beast diving from the ground as one might dive into a pool.  The vine-covered beast looked him in the eye and suddenly let out a blood-curdling roar.  Though that was not what had stunned him, he could take monsters any day.  It was the gleaming metal hand that had ripped through the creature's chest and nearly speared his head with its sharp fingers.

A deep voice rang in his ears, "That's all of them, head back to base."

Vincent Valentine pulled his hand from the beast, allowing it to fall to the ground before walking off emotionlessly, his words cold and dry.

"We're even, Barrett."


	2. A Vision Softly Creeping

_Final Fantasy 7: end._

_Book One: A Dream's Dead End._

_They were the heroes.  They saved their world.  But sometimes our actions have Ramifications we can't even imagine._

Disclaimer (or the shameless plug to try and same my butt): I hereby state that I do not own the Final Fantasy franchise, anything remotely related to it, or even enough money to be worth suing.  This story is for the purely hedonistic gratification of it's audience and is in no way meant to hinder sales of the game "Final Fantasy VII."  On the contrary this author endorses the game.  If you read this story and enjoy it, please buy the game.  If your read this story and don't enjoy it, please by the game.  For that matter, buy the strategy guide.  In fact, all the Final fantasy 7 products are very much worth any ridiculously high price you may see them at.  All the other Final Fantasy products are just as worthy, so don't limit yourself to 7.  Just to be sure you don't miss anything, I suggest you go out and hunt for any product at all in any store that has two "f"s somewhere on it and purchase all said store has.  Yeah…right…..

Scene 2: A Vision Softly Creeping.

Cloud awoke to see only darkness.

It took him a few more moments to realize that he was awake.  It took yet longer to realize that something was missing.  His senses.  There was no noise, not even of his own breathing.  There was no smell, though he was sure he was sweating.  He couldn't taste even his own mouth.  And he couldn't feel anything, from the air and ground around him to his own pounding heart beet.

Though a part of him surmised that this total nothingness should have dismayed him, even horrified him, it was actually rather comforting right now, like a silent soothing whisper in his mind.  There was nothing to bother him.  There was nothing to require his attention.  There was only a peaceful void gently cradling him, and a silent voice pacifying his thoughts.

In addition to this voice, he was only mildly surprised at being in this void; after all, he hadn't expected to see or experience anything in particular.  In fact, there were no expectations in him, as if his life had begun this very moment.

He looked around, searching for any form of light in the room.  Was it a room?  It was so hard to remember anything right now.  He made a mental note to get more sleep, then spent a few lazy minutes wondering how much he had slept last night.  He couldn't remember that either.  Surely he had slept…hadn't he?

He shrugged of his confusion, lying back, the surface below him softening.  It was so comfortable.  Not a tangible texture or warmth, only the pure sensation of comfort, as if in a dream.  He was more relaxed now than he could ever remember.  The remarkable surface yielding to him, enveloping him, suffocating him.  A lightning bolt shot through his thoughts, making a vivid flash before his mind's eye.  Something was very wrong.  But what was it?  He couldn't really remember.  In any case, it didn't matter, it was so peaceful, so easy to just relax, to just give up.  What was there to fight for anyway.  What was there to live for.

Then an odd thing happened…he remembered something.

They were all there.  Who "they" were he had no idea, but they looked so happy, one in particular, she looked so peaceful, so serene.  He could almost remember her name.  He couldn't remember anything about her but somehow he was sure he knew her.  He convinced himself that if he could just remember her name it would come back to him.  And her name was right there, on the tip of his brain, just barely out of reach.

His mind abruptly shattered, then began to burn, an evil seeping into him, trying to touch the memories that even he himself could not reach.  He didn't know how or why, but somehow he knew its intent.  On pure instinct he rolled off the platform he was on, strangely free of its imprisonment, not expecting the drop that quickly came, but adapting by hand springing to his feet.  It wasn't a large drop at all.  He mentally noted that.  He had to note everything.  He had to figure out where he was.

He felt the presence that invaded his consciousness become surprised, then afraid.  It had reason to be.  Once his instincts took over he had never been denied victory.  He grabbed his old buster sword from the nightstand.  He always knew where it was somehow.  He held it in front of him, the rush of the oncoming battle making his mouth water.  He laughed maniacally, nearly foaming at the mouth now, breaking the silence.  He could smell his breath now, taste the bitterness of his mouth, feel his sweaty hands against the handle of his ever-sharp companion.  He could feel it right down to his bones just like every finishing move he had delivered before.  Someone was going to die.

Then she spoke to him, in her peaceful, serene voice, and though the darkness had not lifted, he could see her sweet smiling lips speaking the words "Bad dream again, dear?"

"Yes, a real nightmare," he replied, his voice and mind calm and reasonable, the voice immediately and subconsciously overpowering his instincts, "but it's over now."

"I'm glad, now come back to bed."

He dropped his sword, though he never heard it land.  Not that it really mattered; he had his bliss in her.  He had found what he had been searching for all along.  "Yes…" Her name. "Aries."


End file.
